


Making A Memory

by Shoshanna Gold (shoshannagold)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Fisting, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-04
Updated: 2009-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoshannagold/pseuds/Shoshanna%20Gold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate should be paying attention in class, but Brad made sure he had other things on his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making A Memory

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction based on characters in the HBO miniseries.
> 
> Beta thanks to [](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/profile)[**alethialia**](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/), [](http://mydocuments.livejournal.com/profile)[**mydocuments**](http://mydocuments.livejournal.com/), and [](http://kahtyasofia.livejournal.com/profile)[**kahtyasofia**](http://kahtyasofia.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I wrote this story as a thank you to everybody who participated in the Porn Skirmish in any way - writers, artists, readers. In keeping with the spirit of the Skirmish, it's pretty much pure porn.

The package was delivered just as Nate returned from his morning run – Brad's timing as impeccable as always. Even if it hadn't had _Open Upon Receipt_ written in Brad's precise block letters across the top, Nate would have done so anyway to sate his curiosity – he hadn't been expecting anything.

Inside the first box was a second, this one wrapped in brown paper, and a hand-written note with instructions.

_Good morning, sir:_

I trust you had a good run.

Nate rolled his eyes. The Iceman omniscience shtick was a tad overdone sometimes. Anybody could arrange to have a courier show up precisely at 7 am, with a little finagling and some well-delivered threats.

_I've enclosed a token of my regard, with instructions for its use. Please execute them as directed._

_1\. Open box._   
_2\. Insert object._   
_3\. Go to class._

_At no time while completing the requirements are you to reach orgasm. I'll be in touch with further instructions._

Brad's initials were scrawled at the bottom on the note, along with a happy face. Nate grinned at it. In Brad terms, that was the equivalent to a dozen roses and a box of chocolates.

The note wasn't even trying to be stealthy. Nate had a pretty good idea of what he'd find in the box, and he wasn't disappointed when he unwrapped it. It wasn't in the typical hideously merchandized box found in low-budget porn stores: this was a sleek black box, the toy inside visible through thick, clear plastic to allow for a detailed inspection without being touched.

The plug was the same sleek black as the box. It had a smallish base, from which stemmed a neck about an inch in length and diameter. It flared gently to about an inch and a half, at its widest, before curving back in, to a rounded tip.

He carefully removed it from the packaging. It was lighter than it looked like it might be, but the silicone coating was firm, and it was almost as long as his hand. Nate licked his lips. It was going to split him wide open.

Leaving the toy on the bedside table, he went to shower, taking a bit of extra time to thoroughly clean himself with a kit he'd bought on Amazon before Brad's visit a few months ago. He'd gotten one for each of them, but Brad had been the only one to use it that particular weekend. It looked like the favor was being repaid in spades, though Nate wished for a moment that he wasn't alone. He shook off the feeling – no point in letting loneliness ruin what promised to be a hell of a lot of fun.

His hair was long enough that it looked better if he blew it dry and he could use a shave, but he skipped over those niceties. He was running late and there was no way he was rushing through the second step of Brad's instructions.

Nate had made his bed before his run, a habit deeply ingrained during OCS. He folded his towel in half and placed it on top of the bedspread before lying down. He stacked his pillows under his head and spread his legs, pulling one up and planting his foot firmly on the bed.

His dick had been halfway hard since reading Brad's note and he fully hardened at the thought of what he was about to do. Thank God he'd jerked off the night before – it could be a while until he came again. He didn't think Brad would keep him like this for _days_ but he had a good six hours of class to get through. He resisted the urge to jerk off again – he obeyed his orders. Instead he lowered his hand between his legs and pushed a finger into his hole.

He took a minute to savor the burn from the dry penetration before reaching out and grabbing the lube from the bedside table. He coated two fingers and pushed his middle finger into himself, up to the knuckle, breathing out before adding the other. It wasn't an unfamiliar touch – though he didn't often take the time to finger himself without Brad around, either on the webcam or in person – but it wasn't necessarily _good_, either. That would come later. Now he focused on spreading the lube around and stretching himself, scissoring his fingers and pushing deeper.

If he fucked around any longer, he was going to be late for class. He picked up the plug from the bedside table and covered it with lube. The first press of it inside him made him moan – it had been _months_ since Brad's last visit, since Nate had last been fucked. There was no feeling quite like something large and unforgiving pressing into his ass – fingers were no substitution for this feeling of being filled. Fuck if this wasn't as big as Brad's cock, bigger even. Nate bore down and pushed the plug inward with a single, smooth motion. After a brief moment of resistance, it was seated.

It felt fucking huge, and it shifted as he stood, brushing against his prostrate. Stars burst across Nate's vision. Jesus Christ. For a minute he thought about staying home from class, and then firmly dismissed the notion. How bad could it get?

*

Hell. He was in sheer fucking hell. That was all Nate could think as his seminar on stateside economic theory droned on. Every time he talked, every time he moved, every time he _breathed_, the plug moved inside him, sending a jolt of painful pleasure through his body. He was continually aware of it, hard and massive inside him, his ass spasming around the base, trying to accommodate the intrusion.

He offered an opinion on market resiliency in times of economic downtown – forty percent of his grade was based on class participation and Nate wasn't losing marks because Brad Colbert was a fucking sadist. SERE training had taught him how to stay cool under even the most unbearable of situations and he called on that as he debated his point. Not a drop of sweat or hitched breath betrayed that he had inside him an instrument of torture so that felt so perverse that the fucking Marquis de Sade might have blushed.

It wasn't just the physical stimulation that he was fighting – that alone he could have managed. But it was so fucking _good_, this feeling. It wasn't like being fucked – it lacked that rhythm, that connection with another body, with Brad's body. When he stopped to breathe and really feel sensation beyond the burning arousal, he had felt like he was complete in himself, in a whole new way. His brain was so overwhelmed with the pleasurable sensations that his body was feeding it that his thoughts had been hijacked, too.

Marissa, a pretty redhead with a great body, had worn a short skirt today and Nate spent a good fifteen minutes of his seminar imagining bending her over the table and fucking her. She was wet for him, open and sopping, and he thought of what it would be like to take her from behind, fucking in and out of her cunt until she came for him. He thought of how she would clench around him so tightly that he came, the plug in his ass prolonging his orgasm until he was shaking. Then the guy next to her, Mark, had pulled Nate away from her and gone down on his knees in front of Nate, cleaning him up, licking the taste of Marissa off his cock, letting Nate thrust deep down his throat when he got hard again. Mark reached around Nate and pressed on the plug, fucking Nate with it, and –

Thank Christ Nate had the foresight to put on a cock ring, because that was all that held his orgasm back, classmates and professor be damned. He'd ordered it as a surprise for Brad a few weeks ago and he hadn't planned on using on himself first, if at all. But this morning, after he'd almost come while he was getting dressed, he'd slipped it on, closing the snaps tightly enough to prevent disaster.

His bright idea had backfired on him, though, because the ring had just created another level of awareness in his body. He was painfully hard, the trapped blood in his cock and balls reminding him of it every second. The second he took it off, he'd come. He was going to have to explain that to Brad at some point. Or maybe he'd just go into the men's room at break and snap a picture of his bound cock with his camera phone and send it to Brad. If he were at home he'd lie down on the bed and take one of the plug in his ass, too – damn, he should have done that this morning, but fucking with Brad hadn't been the first thing on his mind.

Brad probably thought he had a few hours before he had to get online and play out this mindfuck that he'd set up. Fuck that shit. Nate was going to set the tempo of this game, and on his own schedule. Brad would be receiving a picture in – Nate checked his watch – seventeen minutes that would throw a wrench in his night out with the boys.

He imagined Brad sitting in a pub, downing beer with his Royal Marine buddies, and casually checking his phone when the incoming text notification buzzed. Brad's poker face was amazing; Nate would be lucky to elicit a blink, maybe a quirk of his mouth. But Brad's body wasn't that tightly controlled. There was no way he wouldn't react to a shot of Nate's cock, hard and red, pre-come shining at the tip, holding himself in his hand so that the black leather band wrapped around his cock and balls showed clearly.

He knew what the beginning of arousal looked like on Brad's body; knew how his balls started to get heavier, his cock just slightly hard, the slight flush across his chest more pronounced the paler he was. Nate loved taking Brad's cock in his mouth when it was soft, sucking and licking it to full hardness. The first few times he'd done it, Brad had been so still, minding his manners by not shoving down Nate's throat, letting Nate adjust to the fullness. Nate had broken him of that habit, swallowing down hard the second Brad was fully erect, fucking his throat on Brad's cock.

Brad might not even excuse himself from the table. He might just sit there with his friends and look down at his phone every now and then. Or he might text Nate, something about how Nate was a cock tease. Nate would try to think of something original and Brad-like that he might get texted back to him, but every ounce of blood in his body was being diverted to his cock. And why bother really, when he'd get the real thing in – he checked his watch again – eleven minutes.

But there was no answering text after he sent the picture, at least not immediately, and he couldn't leave his phone on in class to check.

The plug seemed to be getting bigger and he was becoming even more aware of it, not less so, the longer he had it in. He moved in his seat, trying to get even a moment's relief from the pressure. Caryn, who sat next to him, smiled at him. "You seem like you're got somewhere else you want to be, Nate," she said.

He made himself smile. "Just looking forward to the long weekend," he said, as lightly as possible.

She looked skeptical, but nodded. The professor was glaring at them, so Nate gave her his best game face, and tried to ignore the throbbing in his ass so he could think of something intelligent to say about the depreciation of the yen.

He was going to kill Brad.

*

Somehow he survived the day without getting kicked out of grad school. For all that they were smart, Harvard MBA candidates weren't observant: his Marines would have noticed that he was deliberately holding his messenger bag in front of him as he walked. Or maybe it was just a measure of how much more sex-obsessed the Corps was. Then again, Nate had been to business school parties – so, no, it was definitely a lack of observational skills.

Brad still hadn't texted him by the time his class was finished, which was both surprising and annoying. He'd driven to school, unable to contemplate even the four-block walk with the plug drumming through him at every step, and by the time he pulled into his parking garage, he was pissed off. So when hands crept around his waist and a body pressed up against his while he was unlocking his door, he spun around fast and pinned Brad to the door. "You fucking asshole. "

Brad recovered nicely. "Are you having a bad day, sir? Or do you just have a stick up your ass?"

He was grinning. Fucking Brad. Nate yanked on his jacket, pulling his head down to kiss him.

"Do you have any fucking idea what I've been through today?"

"Well, sir, you did text me an extremely graphic photo. Nice shot, by the way. It got all your best sides." Brad leered down at him. "So I might have some idea." He reached down as if to feel Nate up, and Nate almost arched into him before realizing that the front porch wasn't the place to continue this conversation.

"Inside. Now."

The second the door closed behind them Brad's hands were all over him again. Nate somehow managed to divest them of both their jackets while both kissing Brad and bitching him out. "I have been hard for eight hours. I almost came to the sound of my business management professor talking about the seven principles of staff retention. I couldn't look at my friends without thinking of fucking them. It's your fault if they now all think I'm hot for them, Brad. "

Brad frowned. "I'd be happy to disabuse them of that notion, sir. Right after I disabuse you of those thoughts."

"I'm going to disabuse you," Nate said, before pushing Brad onto the couch and climbing on top of him. He kissed him again, licking into Brad's mouth. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Do you really want to exchange pleasantries right now, Nate?" Brad's hands came up to Nate's waist and slid down his ass. "That picture implied you have other priorities." He trailed his hand down the seam of Nate's pants, stopping just short of the plug. He paused, looking at Nate almost curiously, before pressing against the base of the plug.

Fire shot through Nate as the plug rubbed against his already sensitive prostate. He arched up, riding the wave of pleasure, his hips jerking into Brad, the band around his cock creating almost unbearable pressure. He dropped his head onto Brad's shoulder, panting.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Brad said, tipping up Nate's chin so they could kiss. "I want to see you. I've been wanting it since I got confirmation that my package was delivered. Strip for me. Please."

Nate took a deep breath and sat up. He could fight Brad, but it would just be for the hell of it. Nate wanted Brad to see him, too, wanted to watch Brad's face as he took in how hard and ready and completely fucking strung out Nate was. But there was no way he was making this _that_ easy for Brad, either.

"No touching," he warned, as he stood up and pushed the coffee table back so he could stand right in front of Brad. "By which I mean you may not touch either of us. Your hands stay by your side, Brad."

"Roger that." Brad slouched down, making a show of placing his hands by his sides on the couch. He spread his long legs open and Nate stepped between them. Impulsively, he leaned down and kissed Brad, a short, sweet kiss meant to convey how fucking glad he was to see Brad.

Brad's expression was warm when Nate pulled away. "Let's get this show on the road. I've got some disabusing to do."

Nate laughed and unbuttoned his shirt. He started to shrug out of it, but Brad stopped him. "Leave it on, and unzip your pants." Nate complied, grinning. "Now push your pants down – not your briefs – yeah, like that."

He stood there, khakis bunched around his thighs, shirt unbuttoned so that his chest showed, and Brad just looked at him for a minute. "Now your shorts."

There was no way to do that without touching his cock. Nate moved carefully, gingerly sliding the thin material down. He bit his lip when the elastic rubbed over his shaft, holding back a moan, and Brad's breath hitched. "Touch yourself," he said, his voice considerably less steady than it had been a minute ago. "Hold your cock out for me to see, Nate."

He cupped his hand under his balls and pulled the head of his cock down and away from his belly, biting hard on his lip as he held himself out, showing Brad everything. He wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to put his head back and moan. He wanted to unsnap the ring and come all over Brad's face. Instead, he just held himself loosely, watching Brad clench his hands into the material of the couch.

"Goddamn it, Nate. The things I'm going to do to you." He cleared his throat. "I admire the initiative you took with the cock ring, sir. It's good to see that being a civilian hasn't completely robbed you of your ability to think strategically and execute decisions to the benefit of your men. Or man, as the case may be."

Nate rolled his eyes. "I know how to make do when I'm given an order that contradicts basic instinct and common sense."

Brad smirked at him. "The rationale behind the order not to orgasm should make so much more sense now. I wanted you to save it all for me. Now turn around. Time for the money shot."

"If you come on my ass, I'm going to follow up your money shot with one of my own, and mine is going to be a forty mike-mike between your eyes," Nate warned, shuffling around, the pants around his thighs making movement awkward.

He took his shirt off and faced away, fighting the urge to cover himself. This was Brad, they were adults, there wasn't anything either hadn't seen before. There was no reason he should feel ashamed, and yet the feeling coursed through him; shame and exhilaration and some sharp feeling that was new to Nate, a thrill of being exposed and open like this.

That feeling doubled when Brad said, "Nate. Fuck, Nate. Spread your legs." It was more plea than order, inasmuch as Brad would ever plead for anything. Nate's face burned as he moved, spreading his legs further apart. Bringing his hands up to his ass, he spread his buttocks, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had before. His asshole was spasming around the base of the plug as he held himself open for Brad's inspection.

He didn't move when Brad's hands covered his; touching him tentatively as his fingers spread over Nate's ass, his fingertips just touching the cleft, tracing the skin around the base of the plug. Nate spread his legs even further and pressed back into him, wanting, _needing_. Brad pushed on the base of the plug, two hard taps that echoed like gunshots through Nate's body. He took a deep breath, then another, centering himself.

Brad dropped to the floor beside him and unlaced Nate's shoes. "Lift your foot," he said, tapping on the right one.

Nate did as he was told without thinking, still riding the edge of that last pulse. He put his hand on Brad's shoulder for balance and then realized what he was doing. "I can undress myself," he said in protest.

"I know you can, sir. But you've got other concerns." Brad reached up and tapped the plug again and Nate couldn't help it, he gasped and dug his hand into Brad's shoulder. Brad grinned up at him. "Like that. Now lift your other foot."

"Jerk," Nate grumbled, kicking the shoe away. Brad pulled his pants and boxers the rest of the way down his body and Nate stepped out of them. He pulled Brad up so that he was standing again, and Nate could push at his sweater, getting access to that flat, hard stomach. Brad let him pull it off and then took Nate's hand. "Bedroom," he said. "We've got better things to think about than rug burn."

*

The walk from the living room to the bedroom might have been the hardest thing Nate had done since he left the Corps. Having Brad here, on top of the eight hours of stimulation he'd endured already, heightened his arousal to levels that might actually kill him. To make it worse, Brad hadn't been able to keep his hands off of Nate for the fifteen steps it took to get from the couch to the bed, the fucker.

Nate collapsed onto the pillows still stacked on the bed, grateful he hadn't tidied before he'd left that morning. Brad stripped off his shirt and then sat on the bed to take off his boots. Nate rolled over so that he was close enough to lick and suck on Brad's hip, just at the edge of the tattoo where he gripped Brad when he fucked him from behind. He could do that, he thought, biting down on the marked skin, bend him over the kitchen table and open him up with his cock. It had been long enough since Brad had been fucked that he'd be tighter than hell, and Nate wanted to keep him on the brink for hours; to pay Brad back for what he'd put Nate through today.

"Fuck, you just made the best noise, and I'm not even touching you." Brad said, standing up to shuck his jeans. "Are you thinking about what I'm going to do to you, Nate?"

"We can catch up later," said Nate. "Get your fucking clothes off and come here. Now."

"Fucking officers, all the same." Brad knelt on the middle of the bed between Nate's legs, which he spread further apart. "'Wham, bam, thank you, Staff Sergeant,' but no chit-chat."

"You had better not have recent first-hand experience of other officers," said Nate, grinning. "And tomorrow morning I'll take you for breakfast and seduce you, or whatever the fuck you want – "

"But right now you want me to fuck you," Brad murmured, bending Nate's knee up. "I heard you the first dozen times. With all the time you spent thinking about other people today, I wonder if you even thought about what this might be like, you and me and fucking nobody else. Did you think about what it was going to feel like when I did this?" He reached between Nate's legs and took hold of the base of the plug, wriggling it back and forth.

"I had no fucking idea you were coming here," Nate said, gasping.

"That doesn't answer my question. But you know that, you did it on purpose." Brad grinned, slowly, and leaned in to kiss Nate. "You can't provoke me into fucking you any faster."

Nate licked into his mouth, rubbing their tongues together. "It was worth a try," he said, running his hand down the side of Brad's body. "You've been driving me fucking crazy all day, and you weren't even here. Hell, I didn't even know you were in the country. I thought I was going to have to come home and sit in front of that damn webcam and jerk off for you."

"That would have been hot," Brad agreed. "But this is so much better. Now I can see for myself how full you are, how your ass grabs on to the plug when I move it inside you." He did that again, pulling it out and pushing it in, and Nate moaned into his mouth. "So fucking gorgeous."

He kissed Nate again and then pulled away. "I want to take the ring off your dick, but I don't want you to come. I'll stop when you need me to and I won't let you come until I'm good and ready. Same rules, only you don't have to police yourself anymore, I'll do that. Understood?"

Brad's expression was intent; he looked like he had in the desert when he and Nate plotted missions and figured out ways to keep their Marines alive and safe from the clusterfuck. Nate just nodded – there really was no need for words – and Brad smiled at him, suddenly sunny. "Good."

He touched Nate's dick, running his hand over the shaft, and Nate realized it was the first time that Brad had touched him there since he'd shown up at Nate's door. It was so good, Brad's hands on him. He had to close his eyes, to count his breath off, as Brad carefully unsnapped the ring. "I've got you," said Brad, squeezing the base of Nate's dick. "Look at me, Nate."

Nate did. Brad leaned forward and kissed him. Their cocks brushed together but it was fine, Brad still had a firm hold on Nate, staving off his orgasm. "I want to put my hand inside you," Brad said, very quietly. "I want to take that plug out of your ass and put my fingers inside you and keep opening you up until your hole is so loose and wide that I can fit my fist in you. I want to feel you move around me like that, to see you come apart for me."

Christ. Nate had known that was coming, but hearing Brad say it sent waves of heat rushing through him. This was why he'd ordered the enema kits, why Brad had sent the plug – even though he clearly could have delivered it in person, the fucker. They'd been building to this for months, the sex getting a little more edgy every time they saw each other: four fingers slipping in instead of three when they prepped each other, the toys they used on each other getting bigger, wider, longer. He wanted it, too, wanted to know what it felt to be filled like that by Brad. "Yes," he said simply, reaching up to touch Brad's face, tracing his jawbone. "I want that, too."

"Jesusfuck, Nate." Brad kissed him again, biting at Nate's lower lip. "I'm letting go of your cock now. You tell me if you need me to slow down or stop, but don't you come until I say you can."

Nate took a deep breath and then another as Brad's grip slowly eased, leaving Nate's cock to rest against his belly. He could do this – he'd ridden the edge all day. The ring had held off the most urgent impulses but if he'd really wanted to, he could have come with it on. Now that it was off, it was a matter of focusing on other things – Brad moved back and lifted Nate's leg, pulling it up to rest on his shoulder and Nate found he definitely had other things to think about as Brad started twisting the plug again.

"I'm going to take this out now, too," Brad said, pulling the plug out slowly. Nate moaned as it moved inside him, the feeling of fullness receding. He clenched around it without really meaning to and heard Brad catch his breath. "It's that good?"

"You're going to love it," Nate promised, closing his eyes as the plug came all the way out. "Fuck." He was empty now and he felt strangely bereft. For all that the plug had plagued him throughout the day, he'd reveled in the sensation of being full, of being spread apart like that. He could feel his asshole, was acutely aware of it in a new way.

He reached between his legs to finger his hole, wanting to know that feeling again. Brad's breath hitched when Nate touched himself and Nate opened his eyes to find Brad staring at him. He looked stunned, aroused beyond words. He looked how Nate felt, and it was insane that they were both so fucking blissed out when they'd barely touched.

He wriggled forward, hooking his foot more firmly around the back of Brad's neck, at once lifting his hips and anchoring himself. It spread him open wider and he traced his finger around his hole, teasing himself, gathering lube on his finger before putting it inside himself. It slid in, no resistance, and he fucked himself on it for just a moment before adding another, never once breaking eye contact with Brad.

"Touch me," he said, panting out the words.

Brad blinked then grinned, his expression somehow at once predatory and amused. "It looks like you're doing a very good job of touching yourself," he said, smirking. "What more would you have me do?"

Nate ignored the sarcasm, opting to fight with action instead of words. He scissored his fingers, holding himself open. "Now, Brad. I want to feel both of us inside me."

The amusement slid off Brad's face, and he just looked hungry. "Are you sure?"

Nate nodded. "I can take it." He grinned, pushing down and flexing his ass. "I can take so much more than that, but we'll start there."

Brad grabbed the lube from the table and slicked a few of his fingers. He watched Nate's face intently as he slid one in. Nate would have reassured him that it was fine, but he found himself incapable of doing anything but moaning as Brad's finger glanced over his prostate.

At once, Brad's other hand was on his dick, squeezing it hard. Nate shook his head. "I'm fine, it's fine," he said, lifting his head again to look at Brad. "It's just so fucking amazing."

"It's going to get even better," Brad promised, his finger moving inside Nate until he brushed up against one of Nate's own fingers, wrapping around it. Suddenly it was like they were holding hands _inside_ Nate's body and thank fucking God for Brad's firm grip on his cock.

He breathed in and out slowly, riding the feeling, before shifting his hand to add another finger. Brad shook his head. "My turn," he said, and pushed another finger inside Nate. He moved it in slowly and Nate's head swam as his finger was held between Brads'. He flexed, the spasm shaking through his entire body, and Brad cursed softly. "Fucking Christ, Nate. Pull it out. I want to see you do that."

Nate slowly removed his finger, pausing halfway to push it back in and thrust his hips up as he fucked himself on Brad's fingers – on his own. Brad watched, his gaze intent on Nate's hand, still holding Nate's dick firmly. He pulled his finger free and wiped his hand on the bedspread, reaching up for Brad with his other hand, pulling him down for a kiss. "Good show?"

"Better than the time I saw a whore in Kantang shoot squash balls out of her twat, sir," Brad said, twisting his fingers inside Nate as if for emphasis. He pressed back against Nate, pushing him down gently. "Lie back."

Nate went, settling back on the pillow. "Do you want me to hold my legs open, now that I've got a free hand?" he asked, mostly just to see the look on Brad's face.

It was well worth it. Brad closed his eyes, as if trying for patience, then gave up, letting go of Nate's dick so he could squeeze his own. "What I want, Nate, is for you to stop fucking with me so I can get on with the business of fisting you."

Nate nodded, fighting to keep his expression earnest. "Are you sure? Because you might have a better angle if I hold my leg behind my knee instead of –"

Brad groaned and then laughed, turning his head so that he could suck a kiss into the inside of Nate's thigh. "I'm all squared away, sir, if you are?" He bit down at the same time that he twisted his fingers to brush up against Nate's prostate and Nate dropped the façade and moaned.

"I'm good."

"I know." Brad leered at him for a second, before reaching for the lube. He upended the bottle, squeezing more of it directly over Nate's hole and his hand. "You've already taken three fingers, mine and yours, so I might just go for four, now." He paused, looking down at Nate thoughtfully. "Then again, I don't want to rush things. We have all night, sir, and there's no need for us to fucking make do, for once."

Nate clenched his ass around Brad's fingers again, then smiled, falsely patient. "Like I said, it's your show, Brad." He raised his eyebrows. "But you should consider the fact that the tables will be turned at some point, and then we'll be discussing how long I'm going to make you wait to get off after a full day of fucking with your mind and body. If we talk about it at all – I might just run an independent operation."

Brad nodded, his lips quirking. "Point, sir." He pulled his fingers out of Nate's ass, spreading them as he took them out. "Three fingers, just to see, Nate. I need to feel you open around me, need to do the recon myself to know how much you're ready for."

Nate couldn't argue with that if he'd wanted to – he thought Brad's words alone might melt his brain. Combined with the slow, steady pressure of three fingers entering him, his best course of action was just to lie back and let Brad do his recon.

Brad watched him as he pushed his fingers inside of Nate, stroking them in and out. Nate pushed his hips up to meet them, trying to get as much inside him as possible. Brad pulled them out all the way, and Nate glared up at him. "Shhh," Brad said, laying his other hand on Nate's stomach. "Just a bit more lube and then four. Four fingers inside you, Nate."

He watched as Brad picked up the bottle again, squeezing more of it on his right hand. His heart suddenly beat double-time and adrenaline shot through him. As Brad went to put the bottle down on the bed, Nate caught his left hand and held it. "Big hands, I know you're the one," he said, trying to make a joke of this unexpected apprehension.

Brad paused, linking their fingers together and eyeing Nate. "Too big?" he asked. "Because in all the time we've been fucking, you've never before been inspired to break out into song lyrics. We don't have to do this, Nate."

Nate looked at his hand in Brad's, those strong fingers wrapped around his. These hands had guided his platoon through Iraq, had gotten Nate through long nights and fucked up days. These hands anchored Nate's sanity when Brad would point out something on the map sheet, would show him something on the blue force tracker. He'd find some way to touch Nate's own wrist or hands, just the slightest feeling of skin on skin reminding Nate that there was something more in the world than their fucked-up situation.

In civilian life, Brad's touch had remained constant, the way he lay his hands on Nate a connection to his past and a promise of his future, his two worlds merged together. And now he could take Brad inside of him, make those hands his own. He squeezed Brad's fingers, lifting their entwined hands so that he could kiss the back of Brad's. "We do."

Brad pulled his hand away gently, running his thumb down Nate's cheek. "You want to stop, you say the word. If this is too much, you fucking tell me."

"You have my word," said Nate, looking up into those serious blue eyes. "You won't hurt me, Brad."

Brad kissed him. "I am assured of that, then." He paused for a second, looking at Nate seriously. "Nate -"

Nate cut him off. "Tell me after. Right now your hand has to go up my ass, and I have to get off. It's been almost twelve hours, Colbert. Are you trying to kill me?"

"Not like this," Brad said. "Your body sprawled over the bed, completely covered in lube and pre-come, a fucking huge dildo not two feet away? Ray would read the crime scene report over Margarita's intercom system every day instead of reveille."

Nate laughed. "He would, too. He'd make the trip down from UCLA every morning just for the pleasure. So to save you from being embarrassed to death and me dying of blue balls, you'd better get on with the program."

"Aye, aye, sir." Brad rubbed his fingers together, seemingly gauging their slickness, before moving back down so that he was kneeling between Nate's legs again. He went in with three, but Nate didn't say anything, just took deep breaths as Brad spread lube around inside him before pulling his fingers out. He looked down and bit on his lip as Brad pushed his fingers together, all four of them coiled around each other, and then slowly pushed them into Nate's hole.

"Oh, holy fuck, that's – fuck. Brad." Four fingers were different than three, different than the dildo. Brad was stretching him, opening him, and he couldn't do anything but let himself wash away on the sensation of being filled like that. Brad's hand was pushing deeper and deeper, in to almost the second set of knuckles, and then it was in, and Nate was wide open. Brad's palm stretched him impossibly, Brad's fingers gliding inside him, and Christ, he couldn't think. There was nothing beyond this moment in time.

Jesusfuck, and there was still more to come, more of Brad for him to have. Nate might have been begging, but it was like somebody else was talking, from two rooms away, because the sensation of being opened like this made everything else seem unreal and remote. Everything except Brad, who was right there, his other hand back on Nate's stomach, his eyes on Nate's.

He didn't even want to come anymore; he just wanted this feeling to go on forever. He must have said that out loud, because Brad laughed. "Some wise hooker once told me that orgasm was an overrated destination, that the real experience was the journey. I would have thrown her hippie, vegan ass out of my hotel room but she had truly spectacular tits and her twat was like a vise around my cock. Now I feel like I should send her flowers and a cash bonus for her sage words, since you seem to have reached a whole new state of enlightenment."

Brad's tone was lacked its usual ironic tenor; it was quiet, almost soothing. Nate was really only half-listening, anyway, because Brad had added more lube to the mix and was slowly turning his fingers in quarter-circles, to the right and to the left. He was stretching him, Nate realized, each rotation further relaxing the ring of muscle that the plug had spent the day pushing against. He took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly, willing his body to open to Brad.

Every time Brad's hand moved, Nate's ass burned like he was on the last stretch of ten mile run and his leg muscles were sore but energized. His ass felt that way, heavy and full, the friction of Brad's touch sending continuous shocks of pleasure through his body. Brad's fingers were stroking his prostate and it was all so much, the pressure Brad's hand was creating all encompassing. Nate wanted more of it.

"I'm ready," he said, shifting a bit so that his ankle was wrapped more securely around Brad's neck, pressing his calf deeply into Brad's shoulder. He pulled his other leg up more, wrapped his arm around it so that he was splayed wide. He felt wanton, and with Brad's fingers now thrusting in and out slowly; owned. Brad looked away from where his hand was moving inside Nate's body, his look interrogative, and Nate just nodded. Anticipating Brad's next move, Nate reached for the lube and handed it to him.

Brad slowly pulled his hand out, every tiny motion reverberating through Nate. He thought maybe he actually past needing to come, that the feelings Brad's hand was evoking in him were better than the real thing. But his cock was still hard and heavy on his stomach, and he was soaked with the precome that had been leaking from it, dripping down his hips. There wasn't an inch of him that was dry, really, from the sweat coating his body, the jizz he'd wet himself with, the layers and layers of lube that Brad had put on and in his ass. Wetter, now, as Brad spread lube over his entire hand, all the way past his wrist and then put even more on Nate's ass, spreading him open with two fingers to smooth it inside him.

Nate pushed up a bit, just enough to reach Brad's mouth with his own. Their kiss, too, was wet and messy, Nate sucking hard on Brad's tongue, trying to take as much of Brad's mouth inside him as he could. He wanted everything, wanted all of Brad, and Brad was smiling against his mouth, like he could read Nate's mind. He pulled back, just a bit, brushing his lips against Nate's mouth, biting softly at them.

Brad tucked his thumb inside his palm, his long fingers as close together as possible. His expression was intent, serious, as he pushed his fingers inside Nate's hole. "Deep breaths," he said quietly, only pushing further when Nate exhaled. This – this was more than Nate had imagined. The whole day he'd had the plug inside him he'd known this moment was coming, if not today, then whenever he next saw Brad. Before this, too, he'd jerked himself sore fantasizing about Brad's hand inside him. But he hadn't known, not really, about the pressure and the burn, the heat of the friction as he was breached and filled and carried away, as pleasure and pain washed over him.

"Nate, look at me. Nate. _Nathaniel._" Brad's tone was quiet, a bit tense, but it was the endearment that pulled Nate out of his head. He looked at Brad, trying to focus on something other than the hand in his ass, the pulsing in his entire body. Brad seemed to relax a little, and he smiled slightly, his free hand rubbing in small circles on Nate's belly. "More?"

"All of it," Nate said, locking his eyes on Brad's. "All of you, inside me."

Brad closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Fuck, you're killing me," he said, reaching down and fisting his own cock, his grip so tight it looked painful to Nate. That was probably the point, he thought. He'd take care of Brad later, make him feel as good as Nate felt right now, but that thought fell away as Brad's hand began moving again, pulling back before advancing forward.

"Another deep breath," said Brad, "You're so fucking open, Nate, you look so unbelievable, like you're out of your mind with how good this is. Just a little more and my whole hand is going to be inside you – take another breath. Good, fucking amazing – now, just breathe out and bear down. Oh, fuck, _yeah_."

Nate pushed down at Brad's order and he was breached, split open as the widest part of Brad's hand moved inside him, as his knuckles pushed into his ass, past his ring and deep inside him. It burned and, fuck, for a minute it hurt like he was being broken in half. But he focused on his breath, on Brad's calm, soothing tone, not registering the words Brad was saying, but just hearing his voice. The pain abated, overtaken by the bliss of the endorphin rush and he registered that he was fucking himself on Brad's wrist; that deep inside him, Brad was gently moving his hand, rolling it into a fist.

"Jesus Christ, Nate. You're so fucking – fuck – you're just taking all of me like it's nothing, like it's the easiest thing you've ever done, and I can't even tell you what you look like, spread open for me like that. Fuck, you're still so tight, even after the plug and an hour of my fingers opening you up, like you were a virgin when I first laid hands on you. You're so hot and you're clenched around me, and, goddamn, I could come just looking at you." Brad slowly pumped his fist while he talked.

Nate's cock was harder than it had ever been, and every time Brad stroked his hand against his prostate Nate moaned. He ached to come, but it was hard to focus on the desire to something about it with Brad's fist so huge inside him. He took a deep breath, trying to feel everything at once, trying to collect himself. He was going to touch himself, he was going to ask Brad to touch him, he needed permission – but Brad's fist glanced over his gland again, his hand so big inside Nate there was no room for anything like thought or words and Nate exploded, arching up as his cock pulsed and he came and came, his mind melting into a pool of white-hot pleasure.

He was dimly aware that Brad's other hand had left its place on Nate's belly, of Brad's harsh groan, like it was being torn out of him. Then he was covered not only in his own spunk but Brad's too, coating his chest, a few drops landing as far up as his face. Even as he came, Brad's fist was still inside Nate, and Nate knew he was exercising all of his iron control to not jar Nate's body; that Brad was still scared of damaging him, but too turned on to fight his own need anymore.

For a minute, they just stayed there like that, Brad panting and Nate riding the aftershock of his orgasm, his body still humming with pleasure. But then Brad moved and Nate opened his eyes. "Shhh." Brad said preemptively. "Don't move yet, just let me do this." Nate was still blissed out enough that he didn't say anything, just took deep breaths and tried to stay open as Brad slowly pulled his hand out.

He realized he was shaking as Brad pulled the towel out from under him and wiped his hand on it, using the other side to wipe Nate down. It was a natural reaction, he thought, his nerves reacting to the endorphin release, to the orgasm, to the entire fucking experience. He still felt amazing, not sore or used, though that would probably hit hard tomorrow. "I need a shower," he said slowly, trying to remember how to form words again.

"In a minute." Brad tossed the towel aside and lay down beside Nate, pulling him close and covering most of Nate's body with his own. He pulled the duvet up over them and Nate was grateful for its warmth, for the cover of Brad's body. The shaking stopped as Brad's heat seeped into him. Nate pressed closer, not giving a damn about the mess they were making of his bed, about anything, really, but this man next to him. He wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in tightly, kissing Brad's neck. "When do you deploy?"

Brad tensed beneath him, but Nate didn't let go. "I know you have orders, Brad. I figured it out the moment you showed up at my door. When? Where? For how long?"

"In a week. Iraq. In the north, the Kurdish territories." Brad pulled back to look at him. "They're saying it'll only be four months."

Eight, then, at least. He knew why Brad had to go; he understood that it's what made him who he was, and he would deal with it. They'd deal with it, together. Later. For now, Nate grinned wryly at Brad. "I'll keep the courier on stand-by," he said, kissing him.


End file.
